“Sounds like a plan. That’s what we’ll do. Provided you know a place that delivers. Or I can pick it up.” He opened the door that led to the small landing and the stairs. All three flights of them.
“Remo’s delivers. They have subs too, if you don’t want pizza.”
“Nope, I’m good with pizza.” He waited for her to go ahead of him, then locked the door and followed her down. “In fact, if you tell me what you like, I can order it so it gets here right after you do. You get off at seven, right?”
“Right. So I should be here about seven fifteen. I like pretty much anything but pepperoni.”
“How about mushroom and sausage? And extra cheese?”
“I’m in. And climbing all these steps will help me burn off that extra cheese.” She laughed. “Just let me know what I owe you and I’ll give you my half when I get back.”
“You’re my guest. It’s on me.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Walker, you don’t need to do that. I’m already invading your space with myself and my cat. I can handle my half.”
“I know you can, but it’s not allowed.” He grinned. “Sorry, house rules, guests don’t pay.”
“Walker—”
“Nope,” he cut her off. “End of discussion.”
She put her hand on the door that led to the small parking lot. “I don’t need charity.”
He stopped in front of her, a little closer than was polite. “Good, because this isn’t charity. I like you. I want to help you. And you should let me. I’ve gone up against the kind of people who want this book before. They’re not nice. They won’t give a second thought to hurting anyone who gets in their way.”
“And yet, they put my cat in the bathroom when they ransacked my apartment.”
“Whoever was working for them did that, because a real agent of the Collective wouldn’t have cared one bit about what happened to Edgar Allan.”
“You’re scaring me a little.”
He put his hand on the door frame. “Being afraid of them is smart. But I can and will protect you. I promise. You just have to help me find that book before they do.”
“I will absolutely help you. But what if they find it first?”
He hesitated. “Let’s just pray that doesn’t happen. But there’s sort of a built-in fail safe, provided the book doesn’t decide whoever stole it is its new owner.”
“What’s that?”
“By midnight tonight, if the book still thinks you’re its keeper, it’ll either return itself to you, or return itself to the library. There’s nothing in my files about this situation. If it returns itself to you, all you have to do is hand it over to me and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“And if midnight rolls around and it’s not in my possession?”
He grimaced slightly. “Then I’m going to the library to find that book before the Collective does.”
“The first time it showed up, it was in the return box, so we can start there.”
“There’s no we, Charlotte. I’m going alone. These people are dangerous.”
She wiggled her fingers at him, letting the magical sparks of her one good power dance over her fingertips. “So am I.”
Walker dropped Charlotte at the library then headed to the Witch’s Brew, a coffee shop in town that seemed aptly named for everything that was going on. It was a comfortable, homey place. He got a coffee and a cranberry scone and found a table by the window where he could keep an eye on the street while he texted with Stillwell.
Book is missing. The witch isn’t involved. She’s going to help me find it. He drank his coffee while he waited for Stillwell to reply. It was good coffee, dark roast. The scone wasn’t bad either.
Stillwell responded a minute later. Still need the witch.
This wasn’t a battle to be fought via text, but Walker would fight it. There was no way he was bringing Charlotte in and subjecting her to life confined to the FOL cells. Need intel on Mildred Merriweather. Also Belmont brothers. No first names yet.
Walker only had a single corner of his scone left by the time Stillwell answered. Wasn’t much of an answer, just a link to a downloadable file and the words, Nothing on Belmont yet.
The man might not be much of a conversationalist, but he was fast with the intel. Walker clicked the link and started the download. While he waited for it to finish, he ate the last of his scone. Then he opened the file and started reading.
Mildred Merriweather was far more interesting than he would have imagined. She’d been quite the activist in college and had been arrested twice for protesting. Both times were for environmental issues. He stared at his screen. Millie had been a troublemaker.
Was she still?
He read on, delving into the financials Stillwell had provided. The woman lived modestly and had a small savings, but not much in the way of retirement. And she had a hefty amount of debt. How much money would it take for her to steal a book from the library she guarded so fiercely? According to Charlotte, Millie had thrown the book out initially. Maybe that had been her plan. Throw it out, then retrieve it from the trash later and sell it to her contact at the Collective.
Sometimes the Collective hired a supernatural to do their retrievals, because they were better at controlling the object in question, but there was nothing in Millie’s file to indicate that she was anything other than human. But it wouldn’t be that unusual if the Collective had hired her. She was the head librarian at the library the book considered home. And most people in town seemed to know the supernatural was alive and well in Everlasting.
Plus, the Collective was a mix of supernaturals and humans who’d had their eyes opened. Much like the FOL.
That made Walker wonder if Millie might know Charlotte was a witch. Millie knew a lot of other things about Charlotte. Where she lived. And what time she left for work. Would Millie have had time to toss Charlotte’s place before arriving at the library herself? He’d have to ask Charlotte if Millie had been late.
But Charlotte’s apartment was small. And the book was large enough that there were only so many places to hide it. He could have gone through her place in ten minutes if he’d been trying to find the book. And he wouldn’t have left a spot untouched.
He drained his coffee. Millie was looking more and more like a person of interest. He stared out the window, watching the street bustling with tourists in town for the Festival. If Millie had the book, that meant it was still in the library. Unless she had already handed it off to the Collective, or was about to.
Jumping to his feet, he threw a five on the table and tucked his phone in his pocket. He had to get back to the library and tell Charlotte what he suspected. If the book was still in the library, they’d find it.
And if it wasn’t, it might be time for him to have an up-close-and-personal discussion with Mildred about things much, much worse than late fees.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey.”
Charlotte jumped and let out a little shriek that she sucked back in as soon as it began. Walker was behind her in the middle of the Social Sciences section. She gave him a swat on the arm. “You scared the pants off me.”
He smirked and his gaze shifted downward. “Clearly, I did not.”
“You know what I mean.” She shoved the book she was holding onto the shelf where it belonged, then crossed her arms. Her heart was pounding from being startled. “You’re lucky I didn’t zap you. What’s up?”
He looked over her shoulder for a second. “I think Millie’s our thief.”
“No. Get out. Really?” Charlotte checked behind her too, even though Walker had just done that. “Why do you think that?”
“First, where is she?”
“It’s the children’s story hour. She’s reading The Great Cat Sled Race to the local homeschoolers group and a few tourist kids.”
“Good.” He explained why he thought Millie had stolen the book, but Charlotte got the feeling he might not be telling her everything he’d learned about t
he head librarian, just enough to convince Charlotte of the woman’s potential guilt. Which was fine. It was probably good she didn’t know the deep, dark parts seeing as how she had to work with the woman. Better to keep her innocence that way, too. Or what was left of it.
He finished, and she considered everything he’d just told her. “So what now? We look for the book?”
“Yes. It should still be in the building unless Millie left.”
“She didn’t.”
“Any chance she might have handed it off to someone?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea what she did while I was gone.”
“Then we need to be sure the book isn’t here first.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “How much longer is children’s hour?”
Charlotte looked at her watch. “Twenty minutes or so. More if the kids ask questions, but it just started. It’s also not actually an hour.”
“Where’s her office? Where does she keep her things?”
“It’s in the back, but it’s more of a general workspace, although she uses it the most. We keep our personal items in the marked cubbies in the break room.”
“Which is where?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really intend to snoop through her things?”
“It’s not snooping, it’s recovering stolen property. Your stolen property. Which also happens to be a very dangerous book, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t.” She sighed. “I guess that means I’m on lookout?”
“That would be helpful.”
“Head toward the back of the library. Break room is the first door on the left, office is the second one next to it.” She scrunched up her nose. “And it’s probably locked.”
“I won’t need a key unless it’s an electronic lock.”
“We’re not that sophisticated.”
“Then I can pick it. Keep your phone handy and my number pulled up. If she heads back that way, text me immediately.”
“Okay. I’d say be careful, but the worst Millie can do to you is call the police.” Charlotte put her hand to her mouth. “Hey, I just remembered. Deputy November is still here. The sheriff told him to hang out until we close. She thought it might make me feel better I guess.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t see him when I came in.”
“He went out to get lunch, but he’ll be back soon.”
“Can you keep him out of my way when he returns?”
“Sure, I can manage that.”
Walker smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fast.” He started toward the back of the library, then hesitated. “Find out from November who was in here while I was gone and if Millie spent any length of time with anyone or if anyone picked up a package from her. That will help a lot.”
The library’s door swished open.
Charlotte glanced to see who it was, then waved at Walker. “Go, that’s Deputy November coming back now.”
But Walker was already gone.
She put on a pleasant smile. Something in between nice-to-see-you and yes-I’m-doing-all-right-even-though-my-apartment-was-broken-into. It was a delicate balance.
Deputy November missed the subtly. “Hey, Charlotte, how you holding up?”
“I’m doing fine, thank you.” She glanced at the takeout bag in his hand. He was going to want to use the break room. She couldn’t let him do that. Not until she was sure Walker was out of there. “Hey, was the library busy while I was gone? I’d hate to think I missed anyone I’d reserved a book for.”
He leaned against the counter, jangling his gun belt. He kind of stared off into space like he was thinking. “Ellen Dormand came in. Used one of the computers. Brent Kowalski dropped off a bunch of books his kids had checked out. Judge Turnbury finished his morning paper and left. Offered to get me a cup of coffee, but I told him there was coffee in the break room.”
“That was nice of him. Anyone else?”
November rapped his fingers on the counter. “Oh. The Broadmoor sisters were in. They looked through a few cookbooks, copied a few recipes on the Xerox over there. Millie had to give them change for a dollar because neither one of them had dimes for the machine. That’s about it, though.”
“Okay, thanks.” She snuck a peek toward the back. Still no sign of Walker.
“Sure thing. Guess I’ll go eat.”
She had to stall. “Hey, um, did you get that lunch from the diner?”
“No, I got it from Subs-n-More.”
“Oh. I was wondering if you knew the soup today at Chickadee’s. I was kind of in the mood for soup.” She shrugged. “Comfort food. You know how it is.”
“It’s navy bean,” Walker answered as he strolled up to the counter. “Saw it on the board when I had breakfast there. I’ll go get you some if you want.”
She exhaled in relief. “I might take you up on that.”
Walker nodded at November. “Nice of you to hang out.”
The deputy nodded back. “Protect and serve, that’s what we do.”
Walker pointed at the bag in his hands. “Hard to do on an empty stomach.”
November laughed. “Just going to remedy that.” He glanced at Charlotte. “You need me, just holler.”
“Will do. Thanks.” She held her smile until he rounded the corner toward the break room. Then she looked at Walker. “Well?”
“Nothing. It’s not in her office or with her things. She either handed it off, stashed it somewhere else, or she’s not our thief.”
Charlotte groaned. “November told me who was in the library while I was gone. No one I’d consider a suspect.”
“Tell me.”
She ran down the list of patrons November had given her. “None of those people seem likely to be involved in this. The Broadmoor sisters are sweet little old ladies who spend most of their time baking, and right now, they’re prepping for the Cranberry Festival baking contest next weekend, so I don’t think they’re all that interested in much else. Judge Turnbury is, well, you’ve seen him.”
Walker nodded. “He’s not the heartiest of souls, is he?”
“Not since he retired and his wife died. I dread the day he doesn’t show up at that front door.” She shook her head, not wanting to think about the inevitable. “Brent Kowalski works at the hardware store. His wife is a nurse at the hospital and works some long shifts so he’s almost like a single parent at times. And Ellen Dormand is a divorcee looking for love. She comes in here to use the computer to access her dating sites.” Charlotte laughed. “She’s actually had a few of her dates here, for that matter.”
Walker blew out a breath. “You’re right, none of them sound like they could be involved in this.”
She squinted at him. “But you’re going to check them out anyway.”
He nodded. “I can’t leave a stone unturned.”
“And what about the book?”
He looked in the opposite direction toward where Millie was currently occupied with the kids and story time. “What kind of car does Ms. Merriweather drive?”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You think she slipped out and put the book in there, don’t you?”
“She could have. There is a back door. And you told me she parks back there.”
“You really think breaking into her car is the right thing to do?”
“I’m not going to break into it. Just walk around it.” He shrugged like it was the most innocent thing in the world. “Look inside.”
Charlotte’s brows lifted. “And if you see something that looks like the book?”
“Then I might break into it.”
She shook her head. “You can’t do that in broad daylight. If she has it, we’ll confront her about it.”
“At least tell me which of the cars out there is hers. I’ll just take a peek.”
“Her car is the Kia sedan, and it’s the only car parked behind the library. That’s all there’s room for back there.” She made air quotes. “Officiall
y.”
He smirked. “Thank you. I’ll text you if I find anything, but I’m going to head out after I check her car and do some more recon. Unless you do want that soup?”
“No, I brought my lunch. Listen, you can’t just—”
“You have a good day, then.” He pointed a finger gun at her like he was that cool. Which he kind of was. “See you at Chickadee’s for dinner.”
“Walker,” she hissed. But there was no stopping him. He strolled out of the library with purpose, but Charlotte was scared he was going to get caught. As untested as her magic was, she muttered the little protection spell Lola had taught her and hoped it would be enough to keep him from ending up in jail.
Chapter Thirteen
No book in the car, Walker texted from the counter of Chickadee’s. He hoped the text would be enough to keep Charlotte from worrying too much. The steam from his bowl of navy bean soup fogged the bottom of his phone screen. He wiped the glass off on his shirt sleeve, set the phone aside, and dug into the soup. It was really good. He’d have to get some and take it back to the apartment so Charlotte could have it later.
It was sweet that she was concerned, but he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He had been for many years and had done so against foes a lot more dangerous than Millie Merriweather. Actually, he didn’t consider Millie dangerous at all. Humans generally weren’t.
Now, the Collective agent who was her contact, whoever that was, posed a more serious threat. Most of them were highly trained operatives who would stop at nothing to further their cause. That person’s identity remained to be discovered. And that bothered him. Not knowing who he was up against made his job harder.
Betsy stopped by to top off his coffee. “How’s the soup?”
He swallowed the mouthful he’d just taken. “Perfect. I’ll take an order to go.”
“You got it. How about another biscuit? I’ll get you another biscuit.”
Witchful Thinking: A Cozy Paranormal Mystery (The Happily Everlasting Series Book 4) Page 9