Deirdre knew when Joe acted that way he was trying to get her attention. She reached for him but he leapt out of the way and dashed out of the room. Sighing impatiently, she looked at the folder where he’d just been sitting. It wasn’t her place to look at its contents. She shouldn’t.
But Deirdre had never been much concerned with what she shouldn’t do. Crossing herself quickly and sending a little apology upwards, she cracked open the folder and skimmed its contents.
Well, Joe was right. It made for some pretty interesting reading. Some sad reading. Deirdre had always imagined that Libby and Doc’s life was perfect, or as near to it as possible. They had a thriving business, a loving marriage and a beautiful home. But the folder told a different story.
There was a huge stack of credit card statements inside from different companies. Each one had an alarmingly high figure on it. Could they have been financing the hotel on credit? A closer look revealed that none of these purchases could have been for the inn. Deirdre skimmed her finger down the list. There were random “As Seen On TV” purchases, plenty of discount designer clothes, beauty products from natural retailers, scores of books on all topics, kitchen appliances and so much more.
Deirdre straightened and took a deep breath. Where was her friend keeping all of this stuff? And what did she want with it anyway? Libby did always look great but what was a rural innkeeper going to do with Jimmy Choo heels and Chanel clutches? It was obvious her friend had a problem, one she’d so far managed to completely conceal.
Though probably not from Doc.
Rubbing her forehead, Deirdre felt her stomach sink. So far it had never crossed her mind that perhaps her friend could be involved in the murder. Libby loved Doc. They were a team. What’s more, she was the sweetest, most giving, friendliest person Deirdre knew. Not exactly the type to off her husband.
Then again, do we ever truly know anyone? The contents of the folder proved that she didn’t know Libby so well after all. What else could she be capable of?
Deirdre took some quick snaps of the contents of the folder and then crept out of the office, Skipper and Joe trotting at her heels. They’d suddenly decided to be perfect, obedient cats. Just like the contrary felines they were.
The three got back in her little car and they drove back towards town. Deirdre’s mind was swirling with new thoughts. She didn’t know which way was up anymore. Which meant she needed to talk to the one person who always set her straight: Sam.
“Sorry buddies,” she said to the two inquisitive faces in the back seat. “Going to have to drop you off at home for a bit.”
Chapter 5
The wicker chair creaked as Deirdre settled back into her favorite spot at the Cove Café. She and Sam had been coming there ever since it opened about 30 years before. Before that it was bars. Before that were the four years she’d been away – in Portland, for college. And before that, well, that was high school so it was the usual places. Drinking in the back of cars, someone’s parents’ basement, in the woods. Deirdre could still see high school Sam in her mind – dark hair cut kind of long in late 60’s defiance, gawky, tall, always quick with a joke.
They’d dated for a second in high school but romantically, they’d always been like ships passing in the night. Not that that was what Deirdre wanted. They had been solid friends and she’d had a good marriage. Sure Sam hadn’t been so lucky. His wife had up and left with the kids about 20 years ago. Broke his heart. But he seemed OK now and had a good relationship with the kids.
No, friendship suited Deirdre just fine. She missed her husband Bob terribly some days but she was also free as a bird. She worked as much as she wanted, arranged her house as she liked and had endless free evenings to just lounge in the bath with a good book and a glass of wine. It seemed criminal to disturb such peace and quiet with some torrid romantic affair. If she was even capable of such a thing still.
The doorbell chimed and in came Sam, looking like the faintest ghost of his high school self. He was still tall and kind of rangy, though he’d put on muscle from his carpentry work. The hair was still longish but it was silver white and he’d grown a full beard. He also now had the wind-burned look of a man who has worked outdoors for many years. He was dressed in blue jeans and a navy corduroy shirt. He smiled as soon as he saw Deirdre and came over to kiss her cheek as he always did, leaving with him the familiar scent of wood chips.
He sat opposite to her and his smile quickly turned to a frown. “You look completely exhausted. What’s going on?”
Deirdre took a deep breath. “I found Doc Roy on the library floor this morning when I came in. Dead.”
Sam’s icy blue eyes widened. “Suicide? But how could that be? The man didn’t seem unhappy.”
“Looks like murder to me. It looked like he had a wound in the chest. I find it hard to believe he’d stab or shoot himself there. I just, I can’t stop thinking about Libby. I went to her house right after but I guess she’d already gone down to the station. I have no idea how she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. I wish I could be there for her.”
Sam reached out and took her hand in his huge, warm paw. “You’re a good friend, Dee.”
She met his eyes briefly. They were intense and then dropped away. He removed his hand. “Let the cops talk to her. I’m sure she’ll need your support after,” he mumbled.
The new young waitress came up beaming, pad of paper in hand. “What’ll you two have today?”
Deirdre quickly rearranged her face into a pleasant smile. “I think the fish chowder and biscuit would suit me fine. And coffee.”
“Chicken pot pie and another coffee,” Sam put in.
She leaned back, soaking in the comfy space with its many potted aloes, lace curtains and rose-patterned wallpaper. How many hours had she and Sam wiled away here, blissfully chatting about everything and nothing? Life seemed so very grim now in contrast. A murder in their small town, and one of her own friends? Even the Cove Café couldn’t chase away that reality.
And then there was something else. “I’m not quite sure how good a friend I am,” she said slowly, brushing her long gray hair away from her face. “When I went to the inn to see Libby, Joe went running off into her office. He sat on this folder and wouldn’t budge. Well, you know how he has a way of trying to tell me things. Curiosity got the best of me and I opened the folder. Oh Sam, what a shock! There were credit card statements from every bank I can think of with incredible balances, so so high. And for scores of things, just stuff – shoes, bath stuff, blenders, you name it.”
The waitress came back with their plates. Deirdre tucked in eagerly. She realized she hadn’t eaten all day – just the coffee she’d had before heading into the library. The chowder was creamy and chock full of fish, potatoes, corn and more.
Sam looked preoccupied, like he was digesting what she’d just said. “Well, I’ll be darned,” he said eventually. “I’d never have thought Libby to have a shopping problem.”
“I suppose we all have our secrets.”
He took a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Deirdre gave him a peculiar look. “But you don’t hate me? For going through her things?”
Sam laughed. “I’ve always known you to be nosy. Can’t hold it against you.”
She gave out a sigh. “Well thank heavens for that. Makes this terrible day a little better. How’ve you been, Sam? I haven’t let you get a word in edgewise.”
“Busy. Everyone’s wanting new kitchen cabinets, new roofs, new wainscoting, new you name it. I can hardly keep up.”
Deirdre shook her head. “I’d tell you to take a vacation but I’m hardly one to talk. I can’t tear myself from the library for one moment. Though after today I might need a break.”
“How about a long weekend? We could go paddling and camping. I’ve been wanting to get the old canoe out.”
She smiled warmly at her oldest friend. “That might be just the thing, Sam. You’re such a treasure. But let me see everything’s okay with
Libby first.”
Sam shook his head. “You mean you want time to solve Doc Roy’s murder first. I know you, Dee. You can’t let a mystery go unsolved.”
A sniffle came from nearby and then a low-level keening. The pair turned around to see Margaret Gray by the counter. Her face was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking from what looked like sobs.
Chapter 6
Deirdre immediately went up to the upset woman and put a tentative hand on her back.
“Marg, what’s wrong?”
Margaret had also been in their grade in high school. She was popular with her smooth blonde bob, miniskirts and flirtatious manner. She remained just as beautiful over forty years later. Her hair was still blonde, she dressed fashionably and had plenty of friends in town. Deirdre saw her as an Adult Mean Girl and preferred to keep out of her company.
The woman looked up at her, her blue eyes watery. “Is it really true? Is Doc Roy dead?”
Deirdre put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid so. I found him this morning in the library.”
Margaret blinked and then she crumpled forward, crying loudly. Deirdre shot Sam a desperate look. He came to the rescue immediately and dropping a couple of bills on the table, escorted the unhappy woman out of the restaurant.
Marg didn’t live far off so they walked her to her modest gray Cape Cod cottage with its tidy garden. She’d been married and divorced twice, no kids, and now lived alone. The door was unlocked so they took her right to the plush living room with its delicate sofas and armchairs in pinks and creams. She collapsed on the sofa and cried even more.
Deirdre busied herself fixing tea while Sam found a tissue box to mop up the flowing tears. They settled in with Margaret on the couch, one on either side in case she decided to collapse again.
“What’s the matter?” Sam asked gently. “I didn’t know you were close with Doc.”
“We were having an affair,” she wailed. “For months. I kept asking him to leave his wife. He said he was going to do it soon. We were making plans together. I wanted to marry him.”
The two friends exchanged shocked looks. Doc having an affair? It was unimaginable! He’d always appeared endlessly devoted to his wife.
“Is this true?” Deirdre asked slowly.
Marg gave her a fierce look. “We loved each other. He and Libby haven’t gotten along for some time but they were keeping up appearances for the sake of the B&B. He said she was too controlling, that she was never satisfied with him. He wanted to be happy again.”
Deirdre fought to control a tide of irritation. Sure Libby was never the most open person but she seemed a devoted wife and what’s more, her friend. She couldn’t help feeling angry at Doc, which seemed an inappropriate emotion to have towards the recently dead. And still, the credit card debt made more sense now. The picture perfect marriage had been anything but so.
Sam took over, sensing Deirdre’s anger. “Listen Marg, we want to figure out who did this to Doc. You’ve probably been inside his head the most lately. I know you’re upset but you’re our best shot here. Can you remember anything off about Doc in recent days? Any weird behavior?”
Marg dabbed at her face with a tissue. “I don’t know, he was always kind of up and down.” She thought for a moment. “Wait, he was awfully preoccupied with his will. It was strange because I know Doc never wanted to make one. He thought it was like preparing to die. And he was all about his second chance, his new life we’d supposedly have. But all of a sudden he changed his tune. Talked about needing to iron things over with his attorney. Seemed in a real rush. I thought it was odd but he was a bit of an unpredictable guy so I thought it was just one of his whims.”
“Did he say anything about why he was so worried?”
She shook her head. “No and I didn’t ask. He’s sitting on a gold mine with that B&B and I didn’t want to look like an opportunist, you see?”
Sam gave Deirdre a long look. “Look, how ‘bout you go lie down for a stretch? We gotta be on our way but you call us if you need anything.”
Chapter 7
With Margaret safely in bed with a wad of tissues and a cup of tea, Sam and Deirdre walked back to the café. They were quiet for a while, merely strolling along the uneven brick sidewalk and peeking into the shop windows at the beautifully arranged loaves of bread, wheels of cheese, stacks of fragrant homemade soap and jars full of fresh salt water taffy. Tall oaks lined the street, shading them from the hot midday sun.
Everything was the picture of serenity and order. How deceiving appearances can be.
“This is the last time I assume anything about anyone,” she commented eventually. “Do we even know our friends?”
“I think we know each other pretty well,” Sam replied, his fingers casually running through his thick white beard. Deirdre always thought he looked like an old-fashioned captain waiting for his ship to come in.
She took his arm affectionately. “If there’s anyone I can trust to the end it’s you. We all must have one person in our lives like that, don’t you think?”
“I suppose that’s usually our husbands or wives,” he replied.
Deirdre looked away. “Yes well, we haven’t been that fortunate.”
He squeezed her arm affectionately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of Bob.”
“Oh no,” she replied quickly. “You know Sam, it’s been 10 years now. More. I’m fine. But I suppose I can’t let go of that idea of growing old with someone. Am I foolish?”
“Not at all. Didn’t think you wanted to date, though.”
Deirdre laughed. “Oh Sam, I don’t want a date, I want a husband.”
“I think there are websites for that,” he chuckled.
She punched him lightly. “For you maybe. But I’ve never heard of ordering a husband from Russia.”
Sam laughed his deep, rich laugh she loved. His reddish face crinkled up. “Alright, well I guess we’re stuck with each other at the moment. Neither of us can or want to order anyone. And we both know pickings in this town are slimmer than a blade of grass.”
“Could be a lot worse, Sammy.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a moment. “A heck of a lot worse.”
Chapter 8
The rest of the day passed in a blur. By the time Deirdre got back to the library the body had been removed and the sheriff was gone. Calls to his cell went unanswered. She scowled. Typical. She tried calling Libby too but there was still no answer.
Thankfully, her usual cleaning lady did pick up. She came over in a snap, happy for the extra work. There wasn’t a trace left from the body. The killer must have brought it in on a sheet or such. There were only the sheriff’s boot marks dirtying up the floor. Deirdre was happy that at least she could spare her the horror she’d witnessed.
Mae Brown bustled in soon after, round as a ball and all cheer and smiles as was her trademark. She gossiped relentlessly as she worked until Deirdre went and hid in her office. There was always so much to do. She was working on a new grant application to expand their section on Maine’s maritime history. There was also the grant application for a teen section with lots of manga, graphic novels and current young adult novels.
Plenty of adults brought in their kids but teenagers were few and far between. Deirdre didn’t blame them. There wasn’t nearly enough of interest. She’d been dreaming about a teen corner with comfy couches, computers and study desks for some while. Then again, that would probably mean building an addition. Ah, her longed-for addition. She was determined to get it before she retired. Which was probably why said retirement looked so far off at the moment.
The sun finally set far off in the horizon when she decided to pack it up and call it a day. Deirdre sat at her little antique sea-blue desk by the window, looking out into the library garden beyond. She’d planted herbs and vegetables and encouraged anyone who wanted them to harvest what they liked. The chives had blossomed and the mint was rapidly taking over. White ash trees on the perimeter quivered slightly in the bree
ze.
She turned on her phone again and looked quickly through the photos from Libby’s office. Something was bothering her. The affair. The debt. The will. Something else was going on here and she didn’t trust the sheriff to look into it. It was time to make another visit.
Deirdre went back to her house quickly to feed the cats and eat a sandwich. The two of them gulped down their meal and then started to mewl and whine. Flipper threaded himself back and forth through her legs, meowing pitifully, while Joe jumped up on the counter and head butted her while she tried to eat her sandwich.
“What is it with you two? Did you miss me? I’m sorry I had to bring you home but it’s been a weird day.”
Deirdre The Cat Lady Sleuth (Deirdre The Cat Lady Sleuth Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 2